Sandra Marton - Pleasure - The Sheikh's Defiant Bride

“Are you alone?”

The voice was soft and came from just behind him. Tariq turned and found himself looking at a blonde. Here we go again, he thought.

And then he stopped thinking. Logically, at any rate.

The brunette had been beautiful. This woman was—hell, she was spectacular.

Her hair was the color of spring wheat, falling in soft waves around her oval face. She had high, elegant cheekbones; her mouth was full and soft-looking. Her eyes were dark brown and bright with intelligence. She was tall and slender, her curves accented by a simple black silk dress that clung to her high breasts, narrow waist and gently rounded hips like a lover’s caress.

“I said, are you alone?”

The same game, but a different gambit. Maybe he needed a break from the routine of the last weeks.

Maybe the evening was looking up after all.

He smiled, took the single step that brought him closer to her.

“What happens if I say yes?”

“If you say yes, you’ll save my life.”

“I’m impressed. Such high drama at a run-of-the mill party.”

A quick smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Okay, you won’t save my life but you’ll save me from being unkind to a toad. Can you do that?”

“A toad?”

“A man. He just looks like a toad.”

“Ah.” Tariq grinned. “So, I’ll get an award from the Save the Toads Society?”

The blonde laughed. Her laugh was charming, light and easy and natural.

“Something like that. Look, it’ll only take a few minutes. Just talk to me. Smile. Cocktail party stuff. Please?”

“Well,” Tariq said, looking serious, “if it’s to conserve wildlife …”

“Wonderful. Thank you.” She looked past his shoulder. “There he is,” she said softly, and she flashed him a bright smile. “Oh,” she said gaily, her voice just loud enough to carry beyond the two of them, “that’s so true! I wouldn’t have put it that way, but—” She stopped in midsentence and rolled her eyes. “He’s gone.”

“Toads have a way of doing that,” Tariq said solemnly. “Here one second and then, hop, gone the next.”

She gave another of those wonderful laughs as she looked up at him. Her eyes weren’t just brown, he noticed, they were the color of rich chocolate.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled, reached out and traced the arc of one perfect cheekbone with the tip of his finger. “What’s your name?”

“My name?”

“Your name. Your address. Your phone number.” His voice grew husky. “We can start there, habiba.”

“You mean—you mean, you think.” Her face took on a hint of color. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t coming on to you. Seriously I’m …” She looked past him. “Oh, darling,” she trilled, “yes, thanks, I’d love to!”

Tariq raised an eyebrow. “The toad is back?”

“Yes.”

“If he’s done something to offend you, habiba …”

“No. Nothing like that. I just couldn’t lose him. And I didn’t want to come straight out and tell him he was wasting his time.”

“A woman with a heart.” Tariq’s voice dropped to a husky growl. “What about me, habiba. Am I wasting mine?”

Oh God, Madison thought, out of the frying pan and into the fire—except, this fire could absolutely burn a woman to a crisp.

And leave her thrilled it had happened.

Not a woman like her, of course. Not one who wanted no more of these silly games, but a woman who was impressed by good looks, a sense of humor, clothes that said a man had money, could definitely be in trouble any second.

And sex appeal. No point denying that. This man was sexy as hell.

Not like the toad.

He’d cornered her an hour ago, managed to separate her from Barb, or maybe Barb had done the separating. Either way, Madison had found herself trapped in a corner while he talked about himself. His success. His money. His genius in a high-tech field.

“Well, that’s interesting,” she’d said, when he’d paused for breath. “I’m in a high tech field, myself, and—”

She might as well not have bothered. He’d started talking again, his words silencing hers, about his expensive condo, his expensive car, his Miami pad.

“Oh, there’s someone I promised to say hi to,” Madison had said brightly, and she’d zoomed straight for the only man who’d seemed to be by himself.

She’d wanted a savior.

What she’d found was a man who would never save a woman from anything but would surely lead her straight into sin.

He was gorgeous. There was no other word to describe him. Tall, tall enough to still tower over her even though she was wearing spiked heels. Dark-haired, with eyes so gray they were almost silver. Broad shoulders, trim waist, long legs. He had the faintest accent that only added to his sex appeal.

He was a magnificent predator and it would be oh, so easy to celebrate this last night before her life changed forever by giving in to what was happening because she knew it was happening, that he wanted to take her home, take her to bed and she—and she—

Madison took a shaky breath and stepped back. Or tried to step back; the room was so crowded that she couldn’t.

“Listen,” she said quickly, “What I started to tell you a couple of minutes ago is the truth. I don’t blame you for misunderstanding. I mean, it’s my fault entirely, but—”

“Have we met before?”

Her eyebrows lifted. Such a trite line from a guy like this?

“No, we haven’t. And as I was just saying—”

“We must have. At a party, perhaps?”

“Sorry. I just have that kind of face.”

His gaze moved slowly, almost insolently over her face, lingering on her mouth with such intensity that her heart began to gallop.

“Trust me,” he said softly. “You don’t.”

The surge of the crowd pushed them closer. Madison felt her breasts brush against his chest. Heat raced through her at the contact.

His reaction was far more blatant.

His body hardened.

She felt it, felt that swift male arousal … and felt the shock of an answering curl of desire low in her belly.

Quickly she put out her hands and pressed them against his chest.

“Thank you for your help,” she said brightly.

“Planning an exit, habiba?”

His voice was soft, filled with sexual promise. No, she thought wildly, no, I am not going to do this, not with the rest of my life so perfectly planned.

“I am,” she said in that same artificially bright tone. “He’s gone.”

His smile was wonderful, slow and sexy and completely male. “But he’ll be back.”

“I’m sure he won’t.”

“He will, if he has an ounce of blood in his veins. No man would be fool enough to let you walk away from him.”

“Look, I don’t—I mean, you don’t—” Madison’s gaze slid past the stranger. “Oh, hell,” she said unhappily, “here he comes.”

“Come on.”

The man’s hand—big, hard, powerful—clasped hers.

“Where?”

“Out those doors. See? There’s a patio … or would you rather let the toad catch you?”

The blonde hesitated, but only for an instant.

“All right,” she said, and Tariq hurried her through the crowd, through the French doors, onto the patio.

He knew damned well he could have gotten rid of her pursuer with one look but why do that when he could, instead, bring the woman here, where it was quiet and cool?

He hadn’t come here looking for a night’s diversion but he’d told her the truth. Only a man with no blood in his veins wouldn’t want her. He was going to have her for the night. Hell, for the weekend, and nothing was going to stop him.

The French doors swung open.